Gaslight
by Sir Thopas
Summary: Narcissistic. Arrogant. Coward. These were all words that were used to describe Rodney McKay. When people looked at him they saw the mad scientist, the friendless geek who would sacrifice the universe to serve his own ego. But that's okay. There are procedures now to fix that. Modern medicine will make him better whether he wants it or not.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note - Warning! This chapter contains a detailed description of a lobotomy. Also, some of the "nonsense" that Rodney says during the procedure actually come from Philip Glass's _Einstein on the Beach_, which I had been listening to when I came up with this story.

**Gaslight**

_Chapter 1_

Rodney was going to win the science fair this year for sure. He had spent months working on his project, not to mention he deserved something for all of the bashed thumbs and chemical burns he received from trying to wield his dad's tools. He was so excited to show off what he had done. Rodney stood proudly beside his model of the atomic bomb, trying to will the judges closer with power of his brain. The two lucky teachers that had been chosen this year were going around making little notes on everyone's contribution. He groaned in frustration as they came to a stop near Annabeth's booth and listened to her babble on about seeds and fruit skins or something. They seemed utterly _fascinated_. Rodney pulled at his face and slumped forward. Really? How long did it take figure out if a tomato was a fruit or a vegetable?

It was a vegetable, right?

Finally! Rodney perked up again as the judges moved away from Annabeth, who was grinning brightly at the high praise they had given her. Ha, if the judges liked her project then he couldn't wait to show them his. He was going to blow their minds. Pun _completely_ intended.

Seated on his table was a nuclear warhead split in two to show the judges how the chain reaction occurred within a gun-type fission bomb, minus the uranium-235, of course."Rodney," one of the teachers said with that weird sort of squinty-look teachers sometimes got when they talked to him. "What have you... got... here..."

Rodney grinned brightly at the way the teacher sort of trailed off, looking dumbfounded at the machine in front of him. The judges shot each other a look that clearly spoke of their disbelief, but no. There was no mistaking something like that. They knew a bomb when they saw one. "This is a model of the 'Little Boy' gun-type fission bomb that was detonated over Hiroshima in 1945."

Rodney's neighbor was a boy named Jason. His project had something to do with fruit flies. Rodney wasn't sure exactly what because it sounded stupid, so he hadn't bothered paying attention when his classmate tried explaining it. Jason, however, had apparently been listening intently to Rodney's introduction because all of a sudden the boy cried out "Rodney built a bomb!"

After that it was nothing but pure chaos.

* * *

Rodney tugged ineffectually against the thick padded straps that kept him chained to the bed. He could feel it rolling down the hall, the weaving motion making him feel sick. He closed his eyes against the sensation, but that only made it worse. He wrenched his eyes back open and the bright florescent light seemed to dance above him, making his drugged head swim. "Don't do this," he begged. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he wasn't quite sure if his words were coming out the way intended them to. "The Wraith are evil. Serious, serious bad guys here. I'm not crazy."

"No one thinks you're crazy, Rodney." Rodney could hear the soothing voice of Dr. Ferin from somewhere above him. "This isn't a punishment. We're here to help you. After the procedure you'll feel like a new man. All those emotions, all that resentment and arrogance and narcissism that have been holding you back from establishing truly meaningful relationships will be gone. You'll be free. We can make you better; we can make you _happy_. Then you'll see that there's nothing to be afraid of."

The gurney came to a sudden stop and Rodney looked around, trying to pinpoint where he was, but his vision swam and another wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt someone take a strip of cloth and wrap it lengthways downs his face, over his nose and one eye. Another set of hands peeled back the eyelid that was still exposed. Rodney found himself looking at the kindly face of Dr. Ferin. He was holding an icepick above his eye. "Now, Rodney, you might feel some pressure in your eye socket and a vague sensation of... _wiggling_. But I assure you, you won't feel any pain. Now, I want you to take a deep breath and try to relax for me while counting backwards from ten." Slowly the icepick began to inch downwards.

"Ten." Rodney felt the tip of the icepick come to a rest underneath his eyelid and just above the eye itself. "Nine." The hammer came crashing down and with resounding _crack_ the alien psychiatrist began to nail the icepick through his eye socket and into his brain. Dr. Ferin was correct: he didn't feel any pain. "Eight." The pounding continued, the sounds setting him on edge. "Seven." The hammering had stopped and Rodney could feel the icepick scraping along the bone above his eye as the doctor wiggled it around. He cried out. This hurt. This hurt a lot. "Six. Sailboat. Five. We could get some wind for it. It could be a balloon. So it could be those ones. But these days of 888 cents in 100 coins of change... Five.. Five... Five..."

"And that's when you know when to stop," Dr. Ferin explained as he gently removed the icepick from the man's eye. "Let's move on to the next one."

* * *

Rodney stepped out of the Gate and onto a thriving metropolis. "Thank God it's not another farming village. I might actually be able to carry on a conversation with someone here who doesn't consider the wheel to be the height of technological advancement."

"Rodney," Teyla said in that slow, deliberate way that she used when she wanted him to shut up. "I know that I come from a simple farming village, but I hope that I have never burdened you unduly with my stupidity." There was a bite to her voice that made the hair on his arms rise up.

"No, no, of course not," he babbled. "Not unduly, anyway. Most people can't keep up with me and-"

"Now that Rodney has stuck his foot in his mouth, let's get moving. We're attracting strange looks," Sheppard commanded without giving him so much as a backwards glance. Rodney bit back a sigh as they all started forward. It was like that now between the two of them. Rodney would say something mean or embarrassing and instead of saying something snarky back to relieve the tension, Sheppard would just ignore him. The Colonel had told him it might take a while to regain his trust after Doranda, but Rodney had never been a patient man and he couldn't help but wonder when that might be.

Teyla bumped him lightly with her elbow as she passed. He assumed she meant it to be affectionate, but it had kind of hurt. Was he going to bruise? Rodney rubbed it to see how tender it was. She looked at him quickly over her shoulder, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I am not so sure such an advanced civilization is a good thing," she commented. "All the ones we have encountered so far have turned out to have some dark, evil secret."

Rodney had to concede she was right about that.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note - For those of you who are curious about the title, the term "gaslighting" refers to a form of psychological abuse where the abuser convinces the victim to doubt their own memory, perception or sanity. The term comes from the 1938 play _Gas Light_.

**Gaslight**

_Chapter 2_

It was a terrifying thing to be arrested, much scarier than it had seemed on TV. The criminals in movies always seemed defiant or nonchalant, like they had done it a hundred times before. Of course, he never watched a movie or show that featured a twelve year old being arrested. They had even put him in handcuffs, shoving him quickly into the back of a police car as the bomb squad arrived to defuse a non-working model of a nuclear warhead.

This was all just some stupid mistake, obviously. He didn't know why no one bothered to listen when he tried explaining it, though.

Rodney shivered as he hunched down in his chair. The interrogation room they had placed him in wasn't helping his claustrophobia. Did he have claustrophobia? Well, in any case, he was definitely claustrophobic now.

Finally the door opened and Rodney felt a rush of relief. His Mom and Dad were here now. They would know what to do. He just wanted to go home so badly.

But it wasn't his Mom or Dad, just some blank-faced man in a black suit. The man took a seat in the chair across from Rodney, slapping down a folder on the table between them. He gave the boy what he assumed to be a comforting smile, though it seemed devoid of any actual emotion. "Meredith, I'd like to talk about what happened at school today."

"It's Rodney," he automatically replied. "And shouldn't my parents be here?"

"We're just asking a few questions; you're not a little kid, you don't need your parents for that, do you? Don't worry, we're not charging you with anything, but we need to understand what happened."

"It was just my science project!" He blurted out. "It doesn't even work. Don't get me wrong, I mean it totally _could_ work. I am a genius, after all. But I'd need uranium and where would I get that? There not just handing that stuff out in mall parking lots. Honestly, I deserve that first place ribbon not a trip to jail!"

The detective blinked slowly at the rapid-fire speech Rodney delivered, trying to process everything the panicked boy had just said. "So, it does work?"

"No, well, yes, it could." Rodney didn't think he was explaining this very well.

"I've talked to a few of your teachers," the man began. "They mentioned that you often seemed angry and that you don't seem to have any friends."

Rodney felt a wash of shame and anger come over him at that. He really didn't have any friend. It was embarrassing not to have at least one friend and people were always bringing it up, like having friends was important or something. He couldn't figure out why no one wanted to hang around him. He didn't think he was that unlikable. He liked himself, after all. So, why didn't anyone else? There was only one reason he could think of: jealousy. That had to be it. Because if the other kids weren't jealous of him and just _hated_ him because he was _Rodney_, then that meant he really was the freak everyone said he was."Um, hello? I already told you: I'm a genius. I shouldn't even be in the sixth grade. I could be finishing up high school right now. When you're forced to take lessons from people who are obviously dumber than you, of course you're going to get angry. Mr. Davis gave me detention last week because I corrected his math. He said I was being belligerent, but I wasn't, I was merely pointing that he was wrong. People don't like me because I'm so much smarter than them. They're jealous," Rodney insisted.

"And did you ever want to get them back for that?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes."

The man regarded Rodney coolly at that and wrote something down in his manila folder. Rodney's stomach churned and he wondered if he had said something wrong.

"Can I see my parents now?" He asked plaintively.

The detective sighed, like he was disappointed in him. "If you really think you have to."

"Yes, please." He felt like he was going to cry and he really didn't want to do that. He said something wrong. He knew it. Oh, God, they wouldn't throw him in jail, would they? They couldn't. He was just a kid. They didn't put kids in prison.

He just wanted his parents.

* * *

All of a sudden Rodney could _think_ again as the wiggling came to a stop.

There was yelling somewhere close by and the shadows that were dancing in front of his face disappeared. He could hear crunching, like bone and sinew breaking, a sound he had become all too familiar with since arriving on Atlantis. A woman screamed and there was the pattering of feet as though someone was running away. He thought he heard gunfire too, but he wasn't sure. They sounded like toys. Bang snaps. He had loved bang snaps as a kid.

The spotty figure of a man was leaning over him. It was Sheppard. Even though his vision was swimming, he could recognize the Colonel's hair anywhere. Who seriously used that much gel? Other than Carson, of course. Oh God, he really hoped his last lucid thought wasn't about Sheppard's stupid hair. "You really shouldn't be anywhere near an open flame," Rodney stated. His tongue felt thick and heavy. "Your head is very flammable right now."

Sheppard ignored him. The man's hands hovered above his face like he didn't know what to do. "Rodney, you've got an icepick in your eye."

"It's not actually in my eye, it's in my brain," Rodney assured him. Actually, that didn't sound very assuring at all. It was kind of horrifying, really, but Rodney couldn't muster up any feeling other then dazed apathy. He thought it might have been the drugs. He hoped it was the drugs.

He heard Teyla from somewhere behind him. "What did you do to him?!"

"It's a simple medical procedure." That was the doctor speaking. "It takes ten minutes!"

"You _lobotomized_ him!"

"Not completely!"

He could feel the icepick being pulled out and that heavy sense of pressure he hadn't known he was feeling was suddenly lifted. He blinked up at Sheppard as the spots in front of his eyes slowly began to clear. "Hey, buddy, you need to move now."

He was pulled into a sitting position by Sheppard and Ronon. When did they remove the straps? Glancing back, he could see the body of the doctor lying on the floor. "Wasn't he just talking?"

Sheppard gave him an agonized look. "No, don't you- don't you remember? Never mind, it's not important. We need to move. Do you understand? We have to reach the Gate."

Rodney wanted to say something mean and scathing. Of course he understood. He was a genius, after all. Just a slight, minor case of brain damage. Nothing at all, really. Except he was sure he should at least feel a little concerned about it.

* * *

"What do you use to power your city with then if you don't use ZPMs?" Rodney demanded, waving the handheld device carelessly about. "I haven't detected any sort of alternate power generators near here."

The ambassador looked surprised at Rodney's frustrated outburst. "I'm not sure why your device is having such difficulty. It is not like our generators are shielded. If you want I can have my aide escort you to the site. It's not far."

Rodney looked hopefully at Sheppard. The planet they were on was roughly at the same stage of development as Earth was in the early 1990s. Computers, primitive space travel, all of that was at their disposal. Whatever was powering their city probably wasn't going to be advanced enough to provide Atlantis with any significant energy increase, but whatever it was it was unknown to Rodney. That in itself made it worth checking out.

"Ronon, go with McKay," Sheppard commanded, not bothering to give Rodney more than a second glance.

He supposed Sheppard was just being cautious; unknown planet, didn't want one of his team members to be on their own. But he thought there was something else underneath all that.

_Don't trust me?_

_No._

It felt like Sheppard wasn't asking Ronon to watch his back, but rather to make sure he didn't blow anything else up. The irritated look Ronon shot Sheppard didn't help matters any; it felt like he was back in grade school.

They followed the ambassador's aide through the winding city streets and into a large building. For a second all he could do was stand there in shock as he looked at the "machines", feeling grateful that Sheppard had forced Ronon to come with him. The moment he stepped inside he knew things he were about to go very bad. He was an idiot. He hadn't bothered to look for Wraith technology on the planet.

Ronon had tensed up like a tightly coiled spring, his hand inching towards his gun as the aide walked up beside them. "It's amazing, isn't it?" He asked, gesturing to the bastardized machine-organic hybrids. "Our gods showed us how to make these." He looked up reverently. "The Wraith have truly blessed us."

Before he could say anything else Ronon whipped his gun around and sent the butt of it crashing into the aide's face. The man crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll and the two were off running. "They're Wraith worshippers!" Rodney gasped. "We need to get Teyla and the Colonel and head back to the Gate!"

"Yeah, I figured that already," Ronon growled back at him.

Rodney could hear the sharp whistle of a policeman behind him and then all of a sudden he was facedown on the ground, bones aching from the blast of a Wraith stunner, his consciousness quickly slipping away.


End file.
